For My Teachers

I teach my first public yoga class in 10 hours and 15 minutes.

I guess I'm nervous, but mostly I'm just excited.  I've heard people talk about, when they start doing something they knew they were always meant to do, they have a great sense of arriving.  That's exactly how I feel.  I feel like I should have been doing this all along.  I know I will mess up tonight and many, many times in the future, to the extent that "messing up" is even possible in yoga (and I don't think it is).  I know I've been a teacher and a student for a long time.  Still, tonight is a milestone.

In recognition of that milestone, I would like to express my tremendous, ongoing gratitude to the teachers that have helped me get to this point.  I could speak generally to the teachers that have informed my life, which of course animates my practice, but then I'd be here all day, and what began as a mild procrastination before I calculated _________________________ (INSERT CONFIDENTIAL WORK BUSINESS HERE) would turn into a serious productivity drain.  No one wants that.  

So in the interest of brevity, let me a send a namaste to the five people that have had the greatest influence on my practice of asana.

Lori Burgwyn and Deb Lazer, you taught me that a studio could be a community.  You provided the space for my practice and my heart to grow, and you always went above and beyond to support my progress.  That you do so for all of your students is a humbling lesson I will try to keep in mind with my own students.  Namaste.

Mike Lyons and Andrea Martinez, you taught me that grace under pressure was not only possible but the place to be.  In the middle of all the noise and the chaos of the universe, there is a place of deep quiet and total peace, and I don't think I would understand that nearly as thoroughly without your teachings.  Namaste.

Nancy Shelly, you are my favorite yoga teacher ever.  You got me to go to my first yoga class, then reminded me of yoga when I was hunched over a desk finishing my dissertation and complaining about my back.  Everything that has happened since stems from that moment, so any good I've accomplished in the practice of yoga or will accomplish in its teaching is your good too.  I love you so much. Namaste.

Now, who's up for some yoga?

Discipline

It bugs me to no end that I haven't been able to keep up any semblance of a regular writing schedule for the past month.  If I had to make a list of activities I enjoy, writing would be right behind yoga near the top of the list.  Writing is solace, a chance for me to play in the world of ideas and to talk out some of the things I think I'm learning and to connect with those who feel the same.

That connection may be my favorite part.  I try to be pretty vague about the details of my life but honest and direct with my thoughts and feelings.  At the risk of sounding like a sensitive poet type, I do try to pour my unfiltered self into what I write for this blog, which is why I'm always amazed, humbled, and grateful beyond measure that even one person finds these posts worthwhile.  It may be trite, but a lot of my lonely goes away every time someone hits the like button.

There are perfectly valid and acceptable reasons why I haven't written, but neither you nor I care about those.  Writing is therapy, and writing is my desired vocation, but writing will suffer without regular practice.  As my friend Bob might say, I need to make the time.

Last Night, A Pose Saved My Life

A week or two ago, friend of the Blogcast Inspector Clawseau said she wanted an entry on how yoga changed my life.  I'm not sure if I've been pushing it off, but I hadn't done it yet.

The universe has a reason for everything.

Tonight, I got home and laid down on my couch.  It was too late to make either of the classes at Cleveland Yoga.  As it turns out, I was too discouraged and exhausted to even make it off the couch for the class that takes place in my building.  I passed out for about 45 minutes and woke up as miserable as ever.  Yoga was just about the last thing I wanted to do.

But my teacher training starts tomorrow.  Maybe the fear of embarrassing myself in front of my classmates got me moving.  Maybe it was the memory of Tuesday's class, which was one of my best practices ever.  For whatever reason, I managed to get off the couch, roll out my mat, and do 20 minutes of the most miserable Sun Salutations imaginable.  I couldn't leave the past behind.  Every movement felt broken, tedious, so, so, so very wrong.

20 minutes into the practice, however, I got a gift that almost brought me to tears.  I sat and meditated, and I realized that, with the exception of my weary head, I felt fantastic.  My body felt alive, energized, healthy, and altogether perfect.  My body was so perfect that it even had areas that were still tight, which meant, OMG, I could do MOAR YOGA.  

I proceeded to practice for another hour in complete bliss and gratitude.  By the end, even my brain felt pretty good.

What have I gotten out of yoga?  It grows and changes every day.  Today, I got out of my own mess of a head.  When all seemed lost, I got on my mat, and everything got better.

Slang Rap Democracy

You don't know what cysage is, although you've certainly cysed a bunch of shit.  Maybe you're thinking about cysing this post.  It might not be a good post, but you like me, so you're going to share it on your wall.  Boom.  Cysage

Nor do you know what a cuban b is, which is really unfortunate, because you've ABSOLUTELY cuban b'd a boatload of stuff.  If I know you, I've probably done some shit to piss you off.  If we're still cool, you've cuban b'd my nonsense.

Both those terms come from Southeast DC.  I only know about them thank to the FiyaStarter Crew, hosts of the funniest podcast on the Internet.  Every Thursday morning, you can wake up and download three hours of unfettered opinion, presented by gentlemen not at all interested in how you think they should sound.  They're doing what groups of guys do every day: busting each others balls in language only they can understand

What's crazy is, these DC motherfuckers have absolutely changed the way I think.  I was reading something the other day that didn't make any sense, and I said, aloud, "man, what a cyse."  I called it a cyse because that's what it was.  It wasn't just bullshit, although it was that.  It wasn't just a pain in my ass, although it was that too.  It was someone writing something that they talked themselves into believing, and all my fellow FS heads are nodding right now, because if that ain't a cyse nothing is.

In other words, a podcast has changed my reality.  That was the squarest example I have yet seen of the Digital Age's direct influence on the deepest workings of my poor little brain.

I guess it surprises me every time I think of someone cysing or cuban b'ing some stuff, because some part of me clings to an antiquated view of the relationship between our physical and digital selves.  Often those of us who spend so much time on the Internet think of our real lives as separate from our online lives.  In my experience, that distinction is artificial.  There's not a whole lot of difference between Bryan Shelly, the entity who moves through the physical world, and the various bshelly logins I use in various corners of the digital world.  Really, the only difference is that bshelly is a little more prone to yelling.

What I find most interesting is, as what has happened with me and cysage, how my digital life influences my "real" life. For a long time I have realized the effects of, say, the choice the web sites one frequents impacts one's view of current events or even their evaluations of public figures.  But this was something different.  This was something akin to learning a word that has no counterpoint in my native language, like, oh, schaudenfreude.  Prior to learning the German word, I guess I could have imagined the concept, but the word itself distilled the concept to its essence and allowed it to be more fully integrated into my life.

Potential for good here?  As KBadd would say, "SURE!"  I find it kind of heartening that three regular dudes from DC can bring me into their world enough to change mine.  Maybe the loftiest dreams of the Internet as a place where people, rather than massive corporate entities, control the majority of the content are long dead, but my experience with Fiyastarter shows that normal people can reach out across time and space to shape other people's concepts of reality.

You Only Get What You Give

Is yoga spiritual?  Sure.

So is running.

So is knitting.

So is accounting.

So is any activity, pastime, occupation, whatever.

Where "is" equals "can be."

Why are you doing it?  How are you doing it?  Are you doing it mindfully?  Does it help you engage in the most rigorous possible self-examination?  Does it make you question your every relationship with the world?  Finally, are you prepared to do it for a really, really long time, until such point where it provides the answers to everything, until it encompasses everything?

All of those questions are much more important than what the it is.  In my completely elementary view, those questions, or some more eloquent, comprehensive, and advanced statement of them, are the most important thing with which a person can concern themselves.

Those questions are everything.

So are kittens.

A Valentine for You

Having done a lot of gratitude posts lately, I was a little hesitant to go forward with the following concept for Valentine's Day.  I'm also conscious of not blowing up anyone's spot.  I guess it's ok to put people's names in these blog entries, but I do want to respect the privacy of everyone, especially the people for which I am most grateful.

But then I thought again.  The world needs nothing so much as it needs joy, equanimity, compassion, and kindness.  In that spirit, Happy Valentine's Day to everyone, but especially to the following people.  I'm keeping names out of it, but I'll be as specific as I can so you know when you're getting shouted out.

The Anthem.  Get Your Damn Hands Up

• To my family, for everything ever but especially for their support over the last year.
• To my professional colleagues who have stood by me through the last year.  I learned that the upper boundary of the best behavior from caring, dedicated professionals is much higher than I had thought.
• To my friends  who have been with me from the jump.  I could not have made it through without you.
• To my friends who I just connected with over the past year.  You've made life in North Carolina richer and more fun than I thought possible.
• To everyone who has contributed to my yoga practice ever.
• To all the students I have had the pleasure of teaching.
• To the airplanes and internet providers that keep me close with all of the above.
• To the sun, the moon, the sky, the earth, and the spirit.
• To Lindsey Andrews, whose former FB profile pick I've been looking for an excuse to steal for months.  Words to live by.

January in Review

Analytics?  Analytics.  This will be a recurring feature in which I hold myself accountable and review how I did the month before, all in an effort to do better in the future

Days Blogged: 31 of 31, for a 100 percent blog rate

Days Missed, January: 0

Days Missed, 2012: 0

Southern Rap Classic Earned?  Oh, indeed.

Most Viewed Post: Her and Me, January 1st

My Favorite Post: How To Change The World, January 28th

Post I Wish I Had To Do Over: The Ice Cube/Yoga post from yesterday.  I'm in the middle of finishing an article submission of my scholarly work, and I was way too fried to take on something that ambitious.

Three Things I Learned

1. Writing about magic does not go over with my initial audience.
2. TWEDP can be a way to highlight the wonderful things that my friends are doing, and those stories seem to connect with readers.
3. Writing every day is something I can manage.

Three Goals for February

1. Clean up one of my yoga pieces and submit to Elephant Journal.
2. Write about the work to which I am contributing for the Alliance for Student Activities.
3. Write every day.

Reader Ratings: Super.  Thanks for your time and your support.

Is Ice Cube Appropriate in Yoga Class?

Here at TWEDP, we strive to educate our readers. In that spirit, we present the following comment that regular reader and yoga teacher extrordinare Andrea M. left on our FB wall:

“Seriously considered it as an option for rock your asana but then retracted last minute for fear of offending the tribe, who might not appreciate its eloquence.”

The “it” in question?

Now, I don’t know what kind of world Andrea lives in, but a world in which one cannot play Ice Cube freely in every situation is one in which the Taliban has already won.

But in MY world, the Taliban has not won!

In this world, Barack Obama jumped out a helicopter from 1,000 feet with no parachute, killed 17 Taliban nutjob guards using the ancient art of shadowboxing, and ripped Osama Bin Laden’s heart from his chest with his bare hands.

Barack Obama did not defend our freedom just to see us give us the very freedom that drove his vengeance.

So, for my country, I give you

A Spirited Argument To Play Ice Cube’s “Today Was a Good Day” in Yoga Class

Lyrics are in italics. Passionate ranting in regular font.  From the start, I should make it clear that I will concentrate on only those lyrics relevant to the practice of yoga.  Lots of rappers say lots of stuff.

Just waking up in the morning gotta thank God

I should be able to stop after this one line. Ice Cube's entire purpose in writing this song was to express gratitude. Here, he expresses gratitude for the new born day with a terse eloquence that the Dali Lama himself can appreciate, if not match. Gratitude may not be one of the four brahmavihāras towards which Master Patanjali points us, but gratitude is an extremely important virtue in yoga. If I'm not mistaken, the current sign in the front of the world's greatest yoga studio ever is one word, and it isn't "Shelly" (yet).

That sign says gratitude.

No barking from the dog, no smog
And momma cooked a breakfast with no hog

So what is Ice Cube grateful for? First, he is grateful for a clean environment. We yogis like the environment. You may have seen us driving our hybrids to yoga and eating expensive but pesticide-free organic food. We also like non violence, not just to fellow people but to animals as well. The masters are pretty clear that one fully devoted to yoga will give up meat entirely. Surely the masters would approve of Osage Jackson's refusal to touch that swine.

I got my grub on, but didn't pig out

Moderation. Ice Cube understands that gluttony disrupts equanimity, so he eats only what he needs to sustain himself.

Called up the homies and I'm askin y'all
Which park, are y'all playin basketball?

Physical activity is one of the eight limbs of yoga. Cube understands that a sharp body leads to a sharp mind, which is necessary for the meditation needed to achieve the highest states.

Plus nobody I know got killed in South Central L.A.
Today was a good day

First and foremost, Cube is grateful for life. Every day that you and your peoples all wake up is a good day. It's like Tibetan Buddhism in a Raiders hat and black Wranglers.

The Lakers beat the Supersonics

So a natural body of water defeated a sound only produced by a gas-guzzling, man-made artifice? Again, yogis love nature.

In conclusion, Ice Cube is a Zen prophet for the new era. TWEDP strongly endorses the playing of "Today Was a Good Day," "Black Korea," and other Cube classics in any and all yoga classes.

This Post Includes You

Blogger makes it very easy to obsess over how many people are reading your blog.  You get day-by-day and post-by-post counts of how many people are reading.

Those of who know me know that I think I'm quite clever.  When I looked at my first round of post counts, it looked like the most popular posts had "yoga" in the title.  So earlier this week, I made sure to squeeze yoga into the post title.  This proved unsuccessful at spurring the masses to click.

So then I gave it another look.  It turns out the most popular posts were those with titles that seem the most approachable.  Big, pompous words didn't work.

I should have known better, since I spend a good part of my time telling undergraduates to take big words and jargon out of their papers.  All those words do is put up barriers between you and your audience.  The key to good writing is to express complex ideas completely but in the simplest possible terms.

Also, I think pictures matter.  So here's a man pretending to be a hobo.  His clothes are way too new, and his features far too unforked, for him to be the real deal.

Practice. All is coming.

What I take from the Yoga Sutras: if you do any one thing correctly for long enough, you will eventually know everything, reach nirvana, find heaven, and so forth.

But I didn't learn that from the Yoga Sutras.

I learned that from this stupid little summer camp that I attended in 1992 and, 20 years later, somehow run.

Whatever you love to do, keep doing it.  Do it when it stinks.  Do it when it hurts.  

Because you come out the other side and learn...everything worth knowing.

From one thing.

And if you're looking for that one thing, I suggest pandas.

The Perils of Fame

Originally, yesterday's entry was going to be about the cancellation of the new OMAC series, and how I blamed Dan Didio.  I had a really clever schtick worked out where I was going to attribute low sales figures to Didio's general loathsomeness and that, were he smart or good at his job, he would have penned OMAC using a pseudonym.

A pseudonym like "Schman Schmidio."

Maybe the schtick wasn't that clever.

But a funny thing happened on the way to the snarkatorium.

As I sat down to write yesterday, I thought about the praise and encouraging comments I've gotten from people about TWEDP thus far.  16 days ago, that people would, you know, actually read and enjoy this stuff was the furthest thing from my mind.  Remember, I'm an academic.  I'm used to slaving on something for years and no one reading the end product.

(Seems like a great time to plug my book!  200 scintillating pages on education finance and local school boards politics!  Relive the Great Rutland Donut Controversy of 2003 again and again!)

But some of you are apparently reading.  And you've said nice things.  And...like, humbled, shocked, embarrassed, and really happy.  Thank you.  A million times thank you.

All of this goes through my head yesterday, and I ask myself, do my adoring masses really want to read about how the editor of DC Comics sucks for not being able to sell a book that he wrote?

I actually asked myself if my readers would care about a topic.  Seriously.  My readers.

This is the part where you laugh at me.

Keep in mind that all of this neurotic self-consciousness is being generated by an average of 50 page visits a day.  I cannot even imagine what artists who have followings that support a career go through.  The next time that you're mad that your favorite band made a terrible record, remember that you're probably partially responsible for its terribleness.  Whether they want to or not, that band is thinking about your expectations of what you want to hear from them.  The weight of those expectations has to be staggering.

The best bands often react to fame with the most ambitious, uncompromising effort of their career.  I haven't finished my coffee, so ambition is not happening, but I can do uncompromising.

HE IS OMAC!!!

Pain and Gratitude

One of the things I have discovered in the first couple weeks of this project is that it has allowed me to start to talk about things I have previously been uncomfortable talking about.

So.

Let's talk about pain.

If you're a reader this close to TWEDP's inception, you probably know me fairly well, so you know 2011 was an incredibly rough year.  My 2011 ended 8 days ago, as did the Really Bad and Unfair Thing (which we'll call REBUT, because it's funny).  Of course, REBUT may be over, but I have a lot of hurt, anger, frustration, helplessness, disbelief, and fear left.

In short, I have a sadness.

Because I tend to compare things maybe a little too much, I've started to think about the last time I had this big a sadness about me nine years ago.  For all the similarities, the two major differences between 2003 and now are most important.

One, the stuff that happened in 2003 was much, much worse.  At the end of the day, if the people you love are still around, you're doing ok.

Two, I am so much better equipped to deal with pain now.  Age and experience, and the growth and perspective and wisdom that come with it, are just about the most valuable things we can have.  If you're significantly younger than I am, know that it really, truly does get better, not just because tough times don't last but because you start to know that they won't last and you better understand how to bide your time and deal until they end.

Yoga also gets a shout out here.  Through yoga, I have learned to accept what I can't change.  When I was 25, the idea of being really, really sad mad me think I was somehow broken and inferior.  So, in addition to being sad, I was frantic all the time about why I was so sad.  As you can imagine, this combination of sad and frantic did not produce optimal results.

Now, though--ok, I've got a sadness, just like I did before.  That sadness is going to be around for awhile.  I will do everything I can to make sure it leaves as quickly as possible, but I'm not going to try to chase it off with a torch and pitchfork.  It'll be here until it goes, and that's ok.  In the meantime, I might as well make friends with the sadness.  We spend a lot of time reading bad Star Wars books and staring out the window at nothing in particular.  That's what the sadness wants to do, and really, it's not that bad.  I like Star Wars.

Once I accepted the sadness, I could put it into some sort of perspective, which makes it pretty easy to remember that's not all I've got.  I've got the best, best, best mom and dad on Earth.  I've finally got a crew of filthy Durhamites who make the South feel like home.  I've got a disturbingly loyal friend that calls me every day for no particular reason and with whom I share at least 50 percent of a brain.  I've got a yoga community with classes that keep me challenged and instructors who seem to sense when I could really use a compliment.  I've got an organization that trusts little ol' me to follow in the footsteps of a legend and teach 100 high school kids how to be better leaders and people.

LOVINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN IS WHAT I GOT.

(Couldn't resist)

Yup, I got a sadness, but I got a lot of other things that make the sadness seem far less daunting and ensure the sadness isn't going to stick around.  In the meantime, sad sucks, but it's not the worst thing on Earth.

Being Chelsea Handler is.

And if it's Saturday, PANDAS

Freedom is Free, featuring ZOMG PANDAS

Yes, it really is.

In no way do I mean to disrespect the people who stand on the front line of the conflict between order and chaos.  The sacrifices of individual members of the military and the police, firefighters, teachers, and all other underpaid, underappreciated public servants improve the quality of the choices the rest of us can make beyond calculation.

But even in the most dire, awful, subhuman conditions, one always has a choice, even if that choice is only to die on your feet or live in chains.  From what I understand of the Existentialists, that seems to be their central message.

I used to think that was a threat and a way to cast moral judgement.

Now, I see it as a promise and an opportunity.

No matter what the situation, we are always able to evaluate it and decide how we want to handle it.  All we have to lose is the esteem of others, our comfort, our life, whatever.  But if we follow our heart/conscience and we do what's right, how much can those things that we lost be worth?  And don't we all believe that strength of character and conviction and living the right way will pay off in the long run?

*CONTENT DELETED*  <--me trying to learn to be more circumspect.  In compensation for the deleted comment, here's a picture of a panda.